Strength
by Nimbus01
Summary: In the wake of a disaster, Littlefoot and Cera both come under consideration for a leadership role within the Great Valley. However, when the elders finally make their decision, Cera is devastated to learn that not everyone is accepting of their choice as she and her friends are.


**Hello everyone! I'm back with my last prompt response for Season 1 of the GoF forums' Fanfiction prompt challenge. This month, Rhombus and I found ourselves declaring a tie between two writers, Darkwolf91 and LBTlover247. To settle the matter of how to divide up the prompts, we had each author pose their own unique prompt, and then flipped a coin. I got Darkwolf's prompt, while Rombus got LBTlover's. Darkwolf's prompt is as follows:**

 _ **One of the gang loses respect for somebody they care about deeply. What was the incident that caused this, and how do they deal with it?**_

 **I've got more to say about this, but I'll save it for after the story. Until then, I'm gonna shut my mouth and let you read through this tale of family, the breaking of bonds, and the loyalty of friends.**

 _Strength_

For the first time in many long, dry months, skywater came to the Great Valley once more.

It started off with the greying of the clouds. Those who still bothered to watch the skies were rewarded when they saw the white, puffy clouds darken, but many only remained skeptical. The skies had been grey before, with little to show for it afterward, and no one was interested in garnering false hope. Then, the first sprinkles came, barely more than a mist. Little droplets of water fell from the sky in pale, white sheets. In the previous weeks, the air was so dry and clear that one could easily see from one side of the Valley to the other, but now, as water began to fall in a steadily-increasing drizzle, distant objects became less clear, shrouded by the misty veil. Children ran around with open mouths, catching whatever water they could, and for the most part, the adults let them carry on with their games.

Most of them, however, remained doubtful.

"It will pass," some said.

"A drizzle won't revive the soil," others warned.

But despite their words, the skywater continued to fall, in defiance of the hot, dry season that had plagued the Valley for so many months before.

Beyond the protective walls of the Great Valley, a young female Threehorn stood beneath a thick canopy of leaves and branches, working away tirelessly at the trunk of a tall tree. Every so often, she would back up, and then charge forward, ramming herself into its unyielding trunk. The tree would creak and crack, but despite her best efforts, it stood fast. Between hits, she buried her smaller nose horn into the wound she had created in its bark, digging at the lighter wood within in an attempt to weaken it. Once satisfied, she would back up, and then the whole process would start over again. This had been her routine for the past few weeks, and while it was exhausting, she hardly felt the sting of fatigue. There was simply no time for it.

But as the sound of skywater changed from a soft hiss to a steady patter, she stopped what she was doing and turned her head skyward. Droplets of water fell from the leaves above her as they gathered, and she blinked as they cascaded down into the forest below, where she stood. She hadn't paid much heed before. The Valley had experienced mist already during its dry-times, and it never amounted to much once the clouds had cleared, but this- this was different. The sky was darker, the clouds fuller, the fall of skywater heavier and louder, and as she regarded the sky above with a marked interest, she allowed herself to think the one thought she hadn't dared to think since the greens of the valley had turned to yellows and sickly browns.

 _Is this the end of our suffering? Are we going to make it after all?_

It was a question she had avoided every time the skies became cloudy and grey, because to embrace it was to embrace false hope. Until now, the skywater had always been short-lived, thin, and misty, but what she was seeing now was different. Her heart beat a little quicker as she noted the change in the sound of the skywater. Even as it fell, she could hear it growing louder. The ground beneath her feet was soaked, even becoming slippery in places, and though common sense warned against it, it was hard not for her to feel a little hopeful.

Or, at the very least, inspired.

With a renewed sense of purpose, the Threehorn charged forward again, taking care to keep her horns well clear of the impact site. One of the males had lost a horn like that last week. It had snapped off with a sound like a breaking stick, only much louder and far more gut-wrenching. The Threehorn had survived, despite losing a fair amount of blood, but his mishap had been a lesson for everyone. So, as she approached the tree, the female twisted her body to the side, impacting it with her shoulder. The hit still hurt, but it was better than losing a horn. This time, she felt the trunk give, letting out a loud splintering sound that grew louder the longer it went on. She stepped back, away from the swaying cracking wood, and observed her handiwork.

The tree wobbled for a moment, balancing on its shredded stump, but it could only balance for so long. As its trunk frayed under its own weight, the mighty giant swayed one more time, and then came crashing down to earth in a tremendous flurry of mud, leaves, and dirt. The Threehorn beamed at her fallen foe.

"Hee," she said through her grinning teeth as she looked on in pride, uttering an old expression from her childhood that she had never quite been able to get rid of. Satisfied with her handiwork, she closed her eyes before plunging her shielded head into the tree's branches. It was heavy, almost as resistant to moving as it had been to falling, but she'd dealt with plenty of heavy trees already, and this one was no exception. Grunting, she began to push against the ground, the leaves rasping against the dirt serving as proof enough that she was making forward progress. Spurred on further by the cool water falling on her back, she pushed harder, and as the trunk of the tree began to move, she fell back into her rhythm: one step at a time, even paces, never let up. She was already visualizing her way back; she stood at the bottom of a shallow hill in one of the many groves just outside of the Great Valley, and that hill was all that remained between her and whoever was going to start the arduous process of taking her tree back to the Valley. Normally, this was a two dinosaur job, but lately, more and more of her helpers were feeling the effects of the drought. Just today, three more of them had remained in the Valley, sick: one Longneck and two Spiketails. It was the most they'd ever lost at one time, but she wasn't about to let productivity suffer too much, so she insisted she could move her logs alone.

As she felt the ground shift upward beneath her feet, she allowed herself to stop, raising her head from the leaves in order to ensure she was still on course. On her left, not far away, a Spiketail and a Threehorn were busy with their own log, pushing it up towards the gaggle of able-bodied dinosaurs at the top of the hill: their relief. Taking a deep breath, the yellow Threehorn set her head back down, making sure her horns were locked into the branches, and started to follow them. Starting up again was immensely difficult, especially alone, but it wasn't long before she had her rhythm going again, and in no time at all, she was moving steadily up the hill. It was only when she heard the sudden cry of surprise beside her that she realized she'd overtaken the other two dinosaurs.

"Look!" one of them groaned, "she's passed us! Come on, let's move it!"

"Wait, I don't know if I- oh!"

The female looked up just as the Threehorn, the one with his head in the branches like her, started to slip in the muddy ground. The tree pressed against her, trying to slide her back down the hill, but the yellow Threehorn dug in, fighting it as she stood and watched the others. The Spiketail had managed to surge ahead with his sudden burst of inspiration, tipping their tree diagonally and leaving his partner, and the top of the tree, farther down the hill. His partner, who had only just lifted himself free to see where he was going, was desperately scrambling for purchase on the slippery ground.

"Easy there!" she called down to him, and immediately both dinosaurs fell silent.

"Take it slow, one foot at a time. This isn't a race. Getting that tree to the others is more important than some dumb competition. Tors?"

The Threehorn looked up at her at the mention of his name.

"Don't be afraid to stop if you have to. This ground's getting slippery fast, and if you need to stop and replant yourself, I'd rather you do that than fall down the hill. And Weru?"

This time it was the Spiketail's turn to be addressed.

"Please, for all of our sakes, don't try to be a hero. Stick with your buddy and get up the hill together."

The Spiketail nodded and muttered a hushed apology to his partner. The Threehorn smiled at them.

"Good. Remember, dig in when you need to, and find a rhythm. You'll be at the top in no time as long as you two work together."

She turned back to her own tree just in time to see her smeared tracks in the mud. She'd descended almost half a tail-length while she'd spoken with the others, and the ground underfoot was only getting wetter. Groaning, she closed her eyes and repositioned herself, digging her feet in as tightly as she could manage.

"Okay, you stupid pile of sticks, let's go!" she growled, charging forward. As she pushed off, her feet lost grip almost immediately. Her heart leapt into her throat, and it was only due to her fast reaction that she caught herself and managed to stay upright. Any slower, and the tree might have run her back down the hill. She stood frozen in place, pushing against the tree that threatened to bring her crashing back down the hill at any moment. Skywater dripped down her face as she considered her options. She had to find a new foothold, but if she couldn't do that, she'd have no choice but to let the tree fall, and that would mean starting the climb all over again and wasting precious time. Carefully, she began poking around with her feet, looking for a spot in the mud, a rock perhaps, anything she could brace herself with to get her moving again.

And then, inexplicably, the log began to move on its own.

"Come on, Cera," a familiar voice spoke from nearby, "I've got your back."

The Threehorn's eyes snapped open just in time to see a towering, light brown Longneck bracing himself against the trunk of the tree. Longnecks weren't particularly good tree-pushers, but she knew that wouldn't dissuade this one in particular. Littlefoot wasn't exactly one to give up.

It was odd to see her friend here. Most days he was running back and forth between the Mysterious Beyond and the Valley, making sure the trees were headed in the right direction, and ensuring everything was going according to plan. He'd left her in charge of overseeing the gathering of trees so that he could cover as much ground as possible. There was a great deal of distance between this grove and the Valley, and stopping to check up on the tree-gatherers would eat into his time. Why he'd chosen to do so today, she had no idea, but right now, she let it go. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed all the help she could get. Not to be outdone by her friend, Cera dug her feet in and pushed, taking advantage of the brief respite Littlefoot's aid had provided for her. She established her pace quickly, locking her horns in tightly and matching Littlefoot's own halted, lopsided stride as he sidestepped up the hill. With the two of them working, they once more passed the Threehorn and Spiketail, and before long, their tree was on level ground again.

With the weight of her burden gone, taken by a fresh-faced, eager young Threehorn, Cera collapsed to the ground, relishing the cool touch of the wet grass and skywater upon her skin. Littlefoot looked down at her cooly. It was a reassuring look, but it was easy to see that his stoic expression was a poor mask for the emotional turmoil he was dealing with on a daily basis.

Fighting the dry-times was a much more personal endeavor for Littlefoot. When skywater became scarce and the grass began to die, grazers like Cera and her family found themselves running out of food. The Valley's trees were still relatively green, so most tree-feeders had no trouble keeping themselves nourished, but as squabbles began to erupt among the grazers, the Valley's elders knew something had to change.

That change came as a suggestion from none other than Littlefoot's grandmother, his only relative left in the Valley. She proposed that the tree-feeders do their part to provide for the grazers, knocking down trees, stripping branches, and allowing them to eat the fresh food that they enjoyed on a daily basis. It was a noble, selfless idea, and most of the Valley was quick to adopt it. Much to everyone's delight, the plan seemed perfect.

But as the skies remained clear and the trees of the Valley became bare and scarcer, unease grew again. Littlefoot's grandmother continued to give more than her share of food to whomever needed it the most, but other Longnecks began to pull away. A rift was opening yet again, and with no solution in sight, it seemed the Valley was about to lapse back into conflict.

And then, one warm night, something happened that changed everything. On that night, Littlefoot's grandmother fell asleep peacefully next to her grandson, and never woke up again.

Some said she'd given so much of her own food that she was unable to nourish herself, others suggested that the heat had gotten to her in her old age, but for whatever the reason, something changed inside Littlefoot that day. The passing of his grandmother had left a void in the Valley's leadership. Unchallenged, he stepped into fill it, and immediately came up with a plan to put the Valley back on its feet. The able-bodied would venture outside the protective walls of the Valley, and bring back whatever green food they could find to ensure the Valley survived its particularly harsh dry-time. It was a strange idea, one that, to Cera's knowledge, no herd had ever tried before, but to her surprise, it was exactly what the Valley needed. Before long, she was at his side. Together, they worked tirelessly to ensure that a constant supply of food was provided for those who needed it, and once Littlefoot was able to divide his tasks between the two of them, it seemed that hope might not yet be lost. With Petrie running messages, Ducky and Spike coordinating where food should go in the Valley, and their Mysterious Beyond allies, Ruby and Chomper, keeping the canyons between them and the Great Valley safe, the dry-times seemed to weigh a little less heavily on everyone's shoulders.

Everyone, it seemed, except Littlefoot.

She hadn't seen him shed a tear in the wake of his grandparents' passing, but neither was he as talkative as he once was, either. He was setting his grief to the side, choosing to deal with it later rather than let it interfere with his duties. But the impact of the tragic event could not be entirely ignored, so he worked to forget the hurt. That, she reasoned, was why he could no longer bring himself to smile, even as the relieving skywater came pouring down from the sky, a symbol of hope and future prosperity.

"So, do you think this is it?" Cera said, nodding up towards the sky, "do you think the Valley's going to make it?"

Littlefoot turned his own eyes skyward, following Cera's gaze, and for a moment, looking up at the tall Longneck silhouetted by the life-giving grey sky, Cera realized just how grown-up he looked. It seemed only yesterday that she and her friends were younglings, bouncing around the unexplored regions of the Valley and beyond without so much as a single care. In truth, she realized, they were still doing those things. Only this time, they were allowed to do them, and there was a great deal less bouncing.

"You know what I say every time we get a drizzle of skywater," Littlefoot said, his voice low, almost blending with the sound of the pattering water, "this could stop at any moment, and we'd be right back to where we were yesterday. Even so…" he turned back to Cera, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw the sparkle of a tear in his eye. The corners of his mouth were turned up slightly. It wasn't really a smile, but it was the closest he'd come in a long while.

"Even so, I can't help but feel good about this one."

Cera nodded. "You feel it too, then. There are a lot of dark clouds up there. If this keeps up, we could have skywater for days if we're fortunate enough."

"Well, let's not count our eggs before they hatch," Littlefoot pointed out softly, "even if this does last for a while, it'll be a few days before the grass starts to grow back again. The grazers will still have to eat the greenfood we bring back, which means we've got a few more days of this ahead of us-" he gestured towards the fallen trees being pushed back to the Valley.

"Well, I have a feeling we'll all be pulling our weight knowing that this is finally over,"

Littlefoot nodded. "I think so too."

From the look on his face, Cera could tell that there was more he wanted to say, but she could also tell that he was holding back, whether out of fear or sadness, she could not say.

"So what's the part you're not telling me?" she asked finally, "why are you here?"

Littlefoot let out a deep sigh. "Well, apparently the elders have made a decision."

The moment the words left his mouth, Cera knew exactly what he was referring to. . Littlefoot had never formally accepted his leadership role, and the death of his grandmother left the Valley in need of a new speaker, one to represent them, a sort of "leader" in a sense. It was no secret to either Cera or Littlefoot that they were both being considered to fill the gap. Both of them had experience beyond the wall, both were capable leaders in their own right, and both had proven instrumental in putting the Valley on the road to recovery. They were opponents, vying for the same position in the Valley's leadership, and yet neither of them felt a sense of rivalry. There were much greater things at stake than a simple position in the circle of elders. Their competitive spirit was nonexistent, squashed beneath the weight of responsibility and necessity. Right now, with so many lives on the line, the last thing they needed was a rivalry.

But now, with the return of skywater to the Valley and the revelation that the elders had apparently made up their minds, came the realization that they were opponents again. Cera hated it. She didn't want to see Littlefoot as an enemy, not after all they'd been through, and judging by his own downtrodden expression, he didn't want to see her as one, either.

"Listen, Cera," Littlefoot said, and when he spoke she could tell he was already beginning to choke up. The dam holding back his emotions was already beginning to crack, "whatever they say, whoever they choose…"

"I know," she answered him, smiling warmly up at the Longneck, "I'll never stop being your friend. We've been through too much to let a little title get between us."

Littlefoot nodded. "I'm glad you see it that way, too."

His mouth quivered as he looked down at the Threehorn, and Cera could already see more tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He blinked, turning away to look up at the sky again, but he wasn't fast enough to hide the the new streams pouring down the side of his face, mingling with the skywater. Cera watched, him, trying to stay strong, to remain as stoic as she'd always strived to be. Threehorns didn't cry, but seeing Littlefoot try to hide his own sorrow and relief was becoming a challenge too difficult even for her.

 _Screw it._

Cera couldn't help it. She could already feel her own eyes beginning to water, and watching as her friend finally confronted the feelings he'd held back for so long, she at last allowed herself to drop her own toughened facade.

"Come here, big guy," she whispered, fighting the lump that was rising in her own throat. Slowly, hesitantly, the Longneck turned back down the Threehorn. Their eyes met, and for just a flicker of a moment, Littlefoot actually smiled. He brought his long neck down until his head was resting against her own. To some herds, this was an expression of love, but between the Longneck and the Threehorn as they stood drenched beneath the grey sky, it meant something else. It was the mark of a bond, of a friendship more powerful than any herd relationship, and as their faces brushed against one another, the tears of both dinosaurs flowed freely. They wept together, and together they felt the weight of the world lift, if only a little.

"It's over, Littlefoot," Cera sobbed quietly, no longer able to hide her tears of joy, "the skywater is here, and I just know it's here to stay. We did it."

She felt the Longneck nod.

"I… I miss her so much, Cera."

Cera couldn't even begin to imagine herself in Littlefoot's position. He'd lost a mother, his Grandfather, and now his Grandmother, all of whom he'd known and loved while they were still alive. Her only remaining blood relative was her father, but as she'd never really known her mother or grandparents, she couldn't even begin to imagine how hard this was for Littlefoot.

"I know you do. But she's up there in the stars somewhere, watching. And I guarantee she's proud of you today."

"Proud of all of us," Littlefoot agreed. "Thank you, Cera. You've been right there for me throughout this whole mess. Without you, I would've… I don't even know."

"Save it," Cera said, laughing softly, "that's what I'm here for, you know that. And regardless of what those elders say, that's never going to change."

Finally, the friends parted, each taking a moment to compose themselves. It wouldn't do either of them any favors to show up in front of the elders as a pair of blabbering messes. Cera drew in a long, deep breath as Littlefoot sniffed back the last of his tears.

"Ready?" she said, looking solemnly up at the Longneck. Littlefoot nodded.

"Let's do this."

…

The elders, or at the very least those who were not too weak to attend, were already gathered around the meeting circle when Littlefoot and Cera arrived. Both young dinosaurs were pleased to see that the fall of skywater had only increased since it began. The meeting circle was a soggy mess, but no one seemed to care. In fact, despite the solemnity of the occasion, there was an obvious undercurrent of excitement among those who were gathered.

"Littlefoot, Cera, please step forward."

The voice was none other than that of Petrie's mother. The regal flyer stood poised atop a stone at the opposite end of the circle, her wings folded neatly despite being positively drenched. Since the death of Littlefoot's grandmother, she'd taken it upon herself to be the voice of the elders until a successor was chosen, and now that day had arrived.

Heeding her call, Littlefoot and Cera both stepped into the middle of the stone ring. It was then that Cera saw a familiar group of dinosaurs among the crowd: a light green Swimmer, a darker green Spiketail, and huddled atop them, trying to keep his wings out of the water, sat a brown Flyer. Ducky, Spike, and Petrie. It seemed even their friends had turned up for this moment.

"As you both know, it is the duty of the circle of elders to choose the Great Valley's next Speaker. We mourn the loss of Tapa, grandmother to Littlefoot, but now we must choose who will take her place in our circle."

Cera and Littlefoot shared an anxious glance.

"We have watched you two carefully, observed how you conducted yourselves under the stress of handling the Valley's current crisis. If any good can be gained from this tragic event, it is that we were able to see firsthand how you dealt with a disaster. Both you and your friends have all done more than anyone to pull the Great Valley through these troubled times…"

 _Here comes the "but,"_ Cera thought.

"But when it came to displaying true leadership potential, it was Littlefoot who grabbed our attention almost immediately. Littlefoot devised the plan that would save our Valley, and tide us over until the skywater returned. Littlefoot was able to set aside the most personal of tragedies in order to uphold the greater good. His intellect, efficiency, and dedication has set an example for us all, and so, with a nearly unanimous decision-"

 _Nearly unanimous?_ Cera wrinkled her brow. As disappointed as she admittedly felt, she wasn't particularly surprised. Even she had to admit that Littlefoot's leadership skills had far surpassed her own in the last few months, something that should have been obvious to everyone. So who had voted against him? Who among the Valley was so supportive of her that they were willing to overlook Littlefoot's own accomplishments?

Then she saw her father, glaring pointedly at the brown Longneck beside her from across the circle, just beside Petrie's mother.

 _Oh no._

"-we of the circle choose Littlefoot as the Great Valley's newest speaker."

Turning to Cera, she added, "Cera, your contributions will not be forgotten either, and neither will those of your friends. Without you five, sometimes I wonder if this place would even still be standing to this day. You might not be the new Speaker, but our hearts stand with you just as much as they stand with Littlefoot."

Cera nodded, "thank you."

"Now, you may return to the circle. I see your friends are probably eager to speak with you. Littlefoot, will you grace us with a few words before we disperse?"

Littlefoot gulped, looking down anxiously at Cera. Despite the pang of defeat, she shot him a friendly wink.

"You've got this, Littlefoot. I'll be waiting when you're done."

The Longneck gave her a curt nod, breathed in deeply, and then began as Cera made her way back to where her friends were waiting.

"I guess the proper way to start is by saying thank you to all of you. Thank you for welcoming me into your circle, but more than that, thank you for doing your part. The Great Valley has had to count on each and every one of its denizens during these troubled times…"

"Congratulations, Cera!" Ducky whispered as the yellow Threehorn tucked herself in next to Spike.

"Hmm hmm," Spike agreed, nodding.

"Huh?" Cera said, perplexed, "what for? Littlefoot got the position."

"Yes, but you make it this far," Petrie pointed out, "that mean you good leader too."

Cera shrugged. "I suppose. But you don't have to coat it in tree sweets for me. I lost fair and square, and Littlefoot deserves to be here today."

Ducky raised an eyebrow. "That does not sound like the Cera I know. It does not."

"Huh," Cera chuckled drily, "that Cera left the Great Valley after the dry-times came. She'll be back eventually, I'm sure, but there's no place for her here right now. Today, what matters is that we stand by Littlefoot and help him, and if that means accepting defeat-" she clenched her teeth. The "d" word was not a word most Threehorns were proud of saying, "-then I'll accept it. Littlefoot's going to need us now more than ever, and we have a responsibility as his friends to be there for him. Right?"

Impressed with the yellow Threehorn's mature conclusion, the three friends nodded.

"There's a lot that still needs to be done," Littlefoot finished as his eyes swept over the crowd around him, "there are wounds to heal, friendships to mend, and feeding grounds to reclaim, but we can do it- we will do it- together. My grandmother is smiling down at us today, and while I may not be her, I hope that with your support, I can be half the leader she and my grandfather were."

"Humph! Unlikely."

The rough bark of her father's voice caused Cera to jump. Topps had taken a step closer to the center, standing apart from those around him as he faced Littlefoot.

"I opposed you in the elder's decision, Longneck, and I stand by my convictions," he said, staring defiantly up at Littlefoot. The Longneck seemed surprised, but despite Topps' harsh words, he stood his ground as the Threehorn berated him.

"You might have pulled our Valley through these dry-times, but that does not make you the leader we need. Look back! Look at where listening to Longnecks has gotten us time and time again! Every time we're faced with a new disaster, the Longnecks have always advised caution, and every time we listen to them. Not once have we sought the problem out immediately and confronted it head on. Why? Because that's the Threehorn approach, and everyone in this Valley is too damn soft to realize that it works!"

"Mr. Threehorn," Littlefoot countered, "I'm not opposed to changing the way we do things around here. If you can just calm down, maybe we can talk, and-"

"Calm down?!" Topps roared, planting his foot into the ground in a gesture of defiance, "listen here, Longneck. If you had acted immediately when the dry-times came instead of sitting back and waiting for things to get worse, maybe those of us who had died would still be here!"

Littlefoot's eyes widened. Topps hadn't explicitly mentioned his grandparents, but Cera could tell he'd implied it. She could see him shaking slightly, looking down at her father in disbelief.

 _Come on, dad,_ she thought, _give him a break already._

But Topps seemed to have no such intention as he entered the circle and turned to address the rest of the elders.

"And you, all of you- you're just as sad. You're all so afraid of change that you were unwilling to take a chance. You were afraid to put your trust in my daughter instead of this Longneck. Why? Because she's a Threehorn? My Cera is twice the leader Littlefoot is. Maybe you'll start to understand that while you watch our Great Valley continue to crumble beneath our feet!"

He whipped around back to Littlefoot, his eyes burning, his nostrils flared.

"My daughter did just as much as you did during the dry-times. You think losing a family member is tough? Some of us lost more than that. I watched an entire family of Threehorns die starving while you tree-feeders sat back and wallowed in your ignorance. I don't care if we're free now. The next time something like this happens, I know I won't be able to count on you."

Cera had had enough. She leapt forward, pushing herself through the crowd of dinosaurs until she was standing between Littlefoot and her father. She faced the old Threehorn down, horns bared and eyes narrowed. A look of surprised disappointment crossed her father's face.

"Cera, stand aside," he ordered gruffly.

"No!" Cera snarled, "how can you say these things, Dad? Littlefoot might not have lost as much as others, but he still lost someone! That's more than you can say!"

Topps took a step back, surprised by his daughter's harsh rebuttal, but Cera wasn't finished yet.

"You blame him for failing to help the Valley in time, but if it wasn't for Littlefoot acting when he did, many more would have died. Would you have come up with the tree-moving plan on your own? I know I wouldn't have. You're blaming him for things that haven't even happened yet. How do you know he won't be a good leader?"

"How can you stand there and make excuses for that Longneck?!" Topps shot back, deflecting the question.

"Because he's my friend, and he deserves a chance!"

"He's your _opponent!"_

"So that's what this is about?" Cera spat, "this is all some hatchling's tantrum because I didn't win? Get over yourself, Dad."

Her last words were spoken in a hushed tone, and they seemed to pierce right through the old Threehorn. The rest of the circle had fallen silent, transfixed by the unexpected clash of voices that had just taken place. Topps took a moment to compose himself before matching his daughter's tone.

"Fine. If that's how everyone in this Valley sees it, then I'll back down, but know this-" he glared up at Littlefoot "-you may be Speaker, but you are not _my_ Speaker. This Valley needs strength in its leadership, not more of the same. I speak for my herd when I say that your words will fall upon deaf ears." He turned his glare down to his daughter. " _All_ of my herd."

And then he was gone, turning his back on his daughter and her Longneck friend as he pushed his way silently through the circle, leaving the congregation in stunned, uneasy silence as the sound of skywater droned on.

…

For Cera, everything afterward passed by in a blur. The meeting was over, but a few elders came by to congratulate Littlefoot, offer their own advice, or to reassure him (albeit somewhat uncertainly) after Topps' outburst. Some of them spoke to her as well, and for her part, Cera was able to respond to them, but her mind was elsewhere, trapped beneath layers of anger, confusion, and frustration. It wasn't right. Littlefoot had earned his title fairly, just as anyone else in the elders' circle had. For her own father to deny him was a sharp blow to the gut. She knew her father had never seen eye to eye with Longnecks, but this blatant insubordination was dangerous. It was difficult to determine how Littlefoot felt through his conversations with the other elders, but while he seemed to have an understanding of how serious her father was, he didn't seem to grasp just how bad the outcome of Topps' declaration could be.

There was one solution, and only one solution, that she could see. She'd have to meet with her father and handle the situation as quickly as possible. Doubtless Littlefoot wouldn't want that. He'd probably see it as unnecessarily poking the Buzzers' nest, but he also didn't know Topps as well as she did. He couldn't sit on this situation and wait for it to get better. Topps would be waiting for that, and every day Littlefoot ignored him, his points would become more valid. She needed to handle this now.

So she waited for the opportunity to speak with him again, watching as the elders' numbers thinned, gradually tapering off to the last four dinosaurs to speak with him. Cera's friends remained too, patiently waiting with Cera for their chance to have a few words with their new speaker. But as the day went on, and midday turned to late afternoon, they finally approached Cera. Ducky was the first to speak.

"Cera, we should go eat. We should. It is getting late, and Littlefoot will probably be hungry when he is done."

Cera sighed, hanging her head and doing her best to breathe out the pent-up aggression she'd been storing since earlier.

"I guess we should. Why don't you go on ahead? I need to speak to Littlefoot alone."

Ducky grew concerned. There was still an undercurrent of anger in Cera's tone, one that despite her best efforts, she was unable to hide.

"Is it your dad?" she asked hesitantly, hoping she wasn't about to be on the receiving end of one of Cera's verbal attacks.

The yellow Threehorn snorted, kicking at the ground. It was all the answer Ducky needed.

"Maybe he just being his usual self," Petrie offered, alighting on Cera's back. She winced as his prickly claws touched down on her skin, and shook her head at him.

"No. I know his usual self, and this isn't something he'll get over in the near future. Littlefoot needs to know that." Trying her best to conjure up a smile for her friends, she added, "look, we'll be right behind you. It won't take me long to get my point across, I'm sure. But you three look hungry. There's no reason you should have to wait to dig in. Stars know you've all earned it."

As if to answer her statement, Spike's stomach let out a loud, rumbling growl, and Cera chuckled in spite of the situation.

"See? Spike agrees."

But Ducky looked unconvinced.

"I do not want you to be angry at your dad, Cera. No, no, no."

Cera narrowed her eyes. "It's a bit late for that, Ducky. He lost any respect I had for him the moment he refused to listen to Littlefoot. I have to confront him. I have to make him..." she trailed off. She'd already revealed more than she intended. Surprisingly, now that she had some inkling of Cera's plan, Ducky only nodded. Perhaps it was her understanding of Cera's kind, one that she'd developed over the years as her friend, that allowed her to empathize with Cera's way of thinking. No matter the reason, she finally gave in.

"We will see you later then, Cera."

"Like I said," she said, trying her best to sound reassuring, "I'll be right behind you."

And then they, too, were gone, and before long, only she and Littlefoot stood in the middle of the meeting circle, their backs to one another, silhouetted by sheets of falling skywater. In the distance, thunder rumbled through the mountains. Apparently the skywater had brought with it a storm. To Cera, it felt appropriate. For a moment, the two stood in silence, still processing what had taken place, and when the silence was finally broken, Cera was the first to speak.

"Littlefoot, I'm sorry," she began, her head cast down, "my father- I- I don't even know where to begin. That stuck-up, arrogant-"

"Cera, stop," Littlefoot silenced her, turning his neck around so that he could see her, "you can't control how your father feels about me. He's proud of you, really proud of you. He thinks you should have won, and I don't hold that against him. I heard you talking to Ducky a little while ago, and I think she's right. I don't want you to do anything that'll drive you two farther apart."

Cera's brow furrowed as she looked up to Littlefoot in disbelief.

"You heard us?"

The Longneck nodded. "After hearing 'good luck, we're all counting on you' for the tenth time, I sort of stopped paying attention. And I'm glad I did. The last thing we need to do right now is fight your father."

"I didn't say that-"

"But you were thinking it. I've known you for too long not to know better." Littlefoot's gaze dared her to say otherwise and, for a moment, Cera's old, pre-dry-times self re-emerged, wanting nothing more than to yell at her friend like old times. But then she saw the skywater and the brown vegetation around them, and her shoulders sank. She didn't have the spirit for that yet.

"Alright, you've got me. I was going to find my dad and try to change his mind."

"So you're going to argue with him."

Cera's eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to try to start something, but if it comes to it, yes I will." In truth, she'd been planning to argue from the start, but Littlefoot didn't need to know that. He was too opposed to her plan as it was.

"Then do me a favor and don't," Littlefoot sighed, turning fully to face Cera with as most sincere an expression as he could muster, "the skywater-times are for healing, not for opening more rifts between us. You need to try to understand him-"

"Oh I understand him _perfectly_ ," Cera spat, "I know that he lives every day like he's still out there in the Mysterious Beyond, leading his herd towards the Great Valley. I know that he still can't see us all as part of one big herd here. I understand my father very well, Littlefoot." She added, with a hint of venom, "better than you do."

Littlefoot flinched, surprised at the sheer volume of hatred in Cera's tone. On the one claw, it was nice to see that she was willing to stand by him, but on the other, letting her go off on her quest to antagonize her father, he felt, was only going to cause more trouble in the long run. He had to make her see eye to eye.

"Cera, listen to me," he pleaded, "let me handle this. If I can sort this out, maybe it'll help your father to gain some confidence in me."

"Don't you get it?!" Cera hissed, whirling around to face Littlefoot, "my father has no confidence to gain!"

"If we just let this calm down over the next few days, keep bringing in trees-"

"No!" Cera barked suddenly. Hurt flashed across Littlefoot's face briefly, and she felt a moment of regret, but she had to go on, for Littlefoot's sake.

"Littlefoot, if my dad were anyone else, I would agree with you, but that's not how Threehorns think. If you leave him alone, his grudge will only grow stronger. The ones he's already convinced? They'll be watching for you to do nothing. The more you ignore them, the more they're convinced that my dad is right, and for all I hold against him now, I'll give him this. He's right about one thing: you could stand to be a little more proactive, think like a Threehorn, that sort of thing. So if this new responsibility matters to you, if you really want to prevent a rift, you'll let me handle this myself."

Their eyes met. Cera saw a budding leader, one faced with the first of many difficult decisions. It wouldn't be the hardest one he'd ever have to make, but she knew it weighed heavily on him nonetheless.

Littlefoot saw only a concerned friend. Not a beaten opponent, not one jealous of his new stature, just a concerned friend who truly believed her way was the best way for him to succeed. His mind screamed at him, urging him to keep her out of the fight. Before today, he would have insisted on it, but after hearing Cera's side, after watching her grow under the care of her father and the rest of her fellow Threehorns, he knew what the right decision to make was.

"Go," he said quietly, "you're right. I can't afford not to listen and learn. If you honestly think this is the best way, then I won't stop you. But please, be careful okay? I just don't want to see you end up at each other's throats."

Despite her anger, Cera managed to muster up a smile, and winked at her friend before turning to leave.

"He's my dad, not some Sharptooth, Littlefoot. What's the worst that can happen?"

Nevertheless, she was long gone before he had the chance to answer her.

…

Finding her father wasn't difficult. When Cera returned to the Threehorn herd, they were surprisingly eager to point her in the direction her father had gone after returning to their ranks. Perhaps most of them still felt loyalty towards her for the part she'd played in the previous months, helping and inspiring them in their efforts to save the Valley. Either that, or they believed she was going to apologize to her father. Regardless of their motivations, they told Cera that Topps was heading up to the Weeping Rock, a rocky pass near the top of the Valley wall. She knew the location well. He was fond of going up there by himself during skywater storms, and while he never admitted it, she guessed it was because it was one of the best places in the Valley to unwind, something he almost certainly found himself in dire need of doing.

It didn't take her long to find the steep path leading up to the Weeping Rock. It seemed even in their search for respite, Threehorns opted for a challenge, and the path was no exception. The wet stone was slippery underfoot, and as she climbed higher and closer to her destination, the path grew thinner, barely wide enough to support a herd standing two by two. Twice she caught herself looking down into the Valley from above, a sight which made her stomach lurch. She'd never been very good around heights, but her need to find her father surpassed that fear. Every step was brought forward by anger; she felt betrayed by her father, and even if there was a chance that he listened to her and managed to change his mind about Littlefoot-

 _Fat chance,_ she thought.

-she still wouldn't hesitate to give him a piece of her mind for ripping into her own friend in front of her, and the rest of the Valley on his special day, a day that should have been a moment of reprieve for Littlefoot, and a chance for his accomplishments to be acknowledged.

Night was beginning to fall when she finally reached Weeping Rock. The stone structure itself was aptly named. It was a smooth lip of rock overhanging the path. Grooves were carved down its surface from lifetimes of runoff, and it was through these grooves that the skywater flowed, making it look as if the rock was, indeed, weeping.

And in the shadow of the Weeping Rock, looking out over the Valley through a veil of clear, dripping water, stood a dark grey Threehorn, lean and muscular despite his old age.

Her father.

The old Threehorn turned to look at her as she approached, his expression one of disappointment.

"What are you doing here, Cera? Don't you have better things to do? Defending that Longneck, for instance?"

Cera gritted her teeth at his snide remark. He was still her father, but if Topps had been anyone else, she would have seriously considered running him off the cliff. Instead, she stopped and planted herself, facing her father defiantly.

"I'm here to snap you out of whatever delusions you're stuck in."

Topps' nostrils flared, and in the cold skywaterfall, she could see his breath condense into steam. He approached her slowly, his eyes narrowed.

"Watch your tongue with me, daughter. I am not delusional. Did Littlefoot send you here to make peace? Because I'm afraid I won't be changing my mind anytime soon."

"No," Cera shook her head, "I came on my own. He wanted to do this himself-"

"As he should have," Topps interrupted.

"-but I told him you wouldn't listen," she finished. "I know you too well, Dad. You'd ignore him until he went away, and that would be the end of it. You're the type that loves shouting into caves just so he can hear a voice that agrees with him."

Topps bristled at this. "Did you come up here just to insult me, Cera?"

"For insulting my friend? Yes," Cera lowered her front legs into a crouch, brandishing her shield and horns, "but I also came up here to convince you why you're wrong. The old fashioned way."

The older Threehorn recognized his daughter's stance immediately. It was a shield-challenge, an invitation to a fight normally only reserved for males fighting over a mate or leadership disputes. He'd never expected to see his own daughter challenging him to such a confrontation.

"I doubt Littlefoot would approve of this," he said, chuckling darkly. Cera merely shrugged.

"So do I, but he's not a Threehorn."

His daughter's stance never wavered, and for the first time, Topps realized that she was serious. She actually wanted to fight him. He hadn't fought in years, but he was confident he could take her; that wasn't the problem, however. She was his daughter, not some rival to be taught a lesson, after all.

"Cera, I won't fight you. I don't want to hurt you."

Cera sneered at him. "For someone who just called out a Longneck for avoiding hard choices, you're doing an awful lot of talking."

That did it. With a growl, Topps too fell into the challenge stance, lowering his own horns until they were pointed at his daughter.

"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."

He attacked first, charging without giving Cera a moment to react. She knew her father was aggressive when it came to these fights, but it took actually fighting him to realize just how aggressive he was. She barely had time to move, and even as she did his shield glanced her thigh, shunting her violently to the side. She stumbled, scrambling for her footing on the slippery ground, but Topps was on her again before she had the chance to recover, rising up off his front feet and bringing his protected head crashing down onto her own, narrowly avoiding her spikes.

The impact shook Cera to the core. Sparks of light danced in front of her eyes as she struggled to regain her senses. Through the haze she deduced that her father was trying to end the fight quickly, probably to avoid causing her any real harm.

But also, quite possibly, to avoid hearing what she had to say.

He came down again, but Cera anticipated this, shifting to the side as his frill came flying past her side. She shifted back, ramming him with her flank, and he stumbled, catching himself soon after. Once he had recovered, a newfound respect seemed to shimmer in his eyes, behind the shield of disappointment. She was strong, and now that fact was abundantly clear. This would be a good fight after all.

He lunged forward again, but Cera backpedaled out of the way, leaving her father to crash back down with a frustrated "humph." As she backed away, she began to speak again, and as if to punctuate her words, more thunder rumbled in the mountains beyond.

"I know why you're afraid of Littlefoot," she growled, circling opposite her father as each searched for the right point of attack. Her words seemed to cut deep, and Topps flinched at "afraid" in particular, as if he'd been wounded.

"You're worried you won't have a voice anymore, is that it? You're afraid they'll all listen to him instead of you, just like his grandparents."

"And why is that so wrong? It's true!" Topps snorted, barreling towards Cera. Cera met him head on and the two butted heads, colliding with a loud crack that echoed down through the Valley below. Cera reeled back, her head spinning. She knew her father would try for another attack; it was his winning strategy. She just had to last until he retreated. Blow after blow struck her as Topps rammed his shield into hers, pushing her and shunting her in all directions. She felt as if she was losing control, tossed about like a leaf in a windstorm by her father's horns. When he finally drew back, she found that their positions had reversed. Now it was she whose back was turned to the Weeping Rock, while he stood on the path to the Valley.

"You haven't lived long enough to see how the other elders think, but I have," Topps went on, circling again as he caught his breath, "they only ever listened to the Longnecks, and with Littlefoot it'll be the same story all over again. Do you know why?"

"Why?" Cera spat, shaking her frill menacingly.

"Because they're too afraid to see the world as we Threehorns do. They don't want to make the hard decisions. They'd rather talk around their problems than take them head-on. Of course they'd choose another Longneck as their next Speaker. They can't bear the idea of changing the way they do things around here!"

This time, Cera went on the offensive, clashing horns with her father mid-pace. Caught off guard by her sudden display of aggressiveness, Topps nonetheless was just as seasoned a defender as an attacker. He fended her off easily, their horns clacking together loudly, but Cera was satisfied as she backed off, despite failing the engagement. She'd interrupted his break, and that was all that mattered. Topps was great at ending fights early, but she felt that if she could outlast him, she might at least stand a chance.

"Time after time, whenever the Great Valley faces a new threat, the Longnecks decide how we should act," Topps went on, watching his daughter warily in case she decided to attack again, "and time after time, I offer a different answer, and every time I'm ignored. Do you see how frustrating this is, Cera? Do you understand how _dangerous_ this is? Fires, floods, Sharpteeth, they always turn to the Longnecks for long, complicated answers, and every time something goes wrong where a Threehorn would just look at the problem and fix it right then and there."

"Fix it?!" Cera balked at her father's words, "don't give me that crap!"

Topps lunged for her, but Cera held her ground, warding off a flurry of head-bashes. Now that she was prepared for the impact, she was less shaken, and she could already feel him weakening as his breath became more ragged. She, on the other claw, felt fine if a little sore. Just another reason to thank Littlefoot for putting her on tree-pushing duty.

"You're right," Cera said, pacing from side to side as she glared at her father, "there does always seem to be a problem every time a new disaster faces us. But guess what? It's not the Longnecks."

"Then do tell me what you think the problem is," Topps grunted. Cera charged again and Topps met her just under the lip of the Weeping Rock. Their horns locked and the two Threehorns stood still as stones for a moment, framed by the falling water. They were close enough now that Cera spoke her next words barely louder than a whisper.

"The problem is you."

Topps wrenched his horns out of her grip and backed away, looking simultaneously shocked and furious.

"How dare you!" he yelled, forgetting in that moment that it was his daughter he was fighting. He surged forward, locking with Cera's horns again, but this time he twisted his head, smashing her into the interior wall of the Weeping Rock. To his surprise, however, Cera pushed back, bracing herself against the wall even as she gasped to restore the air that had been driven from her lungs.

"Think about it, Dad," she rasped, "there's one thing that stays constant every time something major goes wrong, and that's you."

Digging deeper, Cera managed to find the strength to push back. The give was only slight at first, but as she continued to resist, she felt his hold began to slip. Just as he'd done to her, she twisted her own head sideways, throwing him off balance and sending him sliding across the slippery ground. She came running after him, following up with another brutal strike to the face that sent Topps staggering backwards. The two faced one another at opposite sides of the path again, each a little more wary than before.

"When I was a kid, you endangered me when you went against Littlefoot's grandparents' advice. Do you remember that? If not for them, we'd have died in the Great Valley fire, all because you couldn't bring yourself to follow the Longnecks. You almost divided the herd when we had to leave because of the Swarming Leaf Gobblers, and even now, when the grass grew dry and the grazers became restless, did you even try to find an answer? No! You started fights with the other grazers over the few feeding grounds left!"

Cera had worked herself up into a frenzy now, throwing herself at her father and swinging her head wildly. The much more experienced Topps fought off her attacks easily, but they kept coming until finally he shoved back, pushing Cera with all of his remaining strength. She took a few steps backwards, fighting to maintain her balance, and finally came to a halt, composing herself.

"Every time we have to make a risky decision, you're always there to suggest the 'Threehorn side,' even when it's obvious that our approach is stupid!"

"What's wrong with thinking like a Threehorn, Cera?" her father roared, bringing his foot down hard on the stone path, "in case you hadn't noticed, we are Threehorns!"

Skyfire lit the night sky, splitting it in two as the two furious Threehorns squared off again. Cera roared her rebuttal, and her bellow rivaled the ensuing boom of thunder.

"There's nothing wrong with thinking like a Threehorn when the situation calls for it. And I'll admit it, Dad, that's where the Longnecks have always got it wrong. That's where the Valley every once in a while gets it wrong! Sometimes, we do have the right answer. And yes, sometimes we do get overlooked, but it's because you think everything requires a Threehorn approach that we aren't taken seriously anymore!"

The attack came from Topps this time- a straight-line charge leading into a headbutt, but Cera was ready for him. She sidestepped the exhausted Threehorn with ease, bringing her tail up and back down on the back of his neck, a trick she'd learned watching Littlefoot in their few encounters with Sharpteeth beyond the Great Valley. With a loud grunt, Topps stumbled and fell.

"And that's where Littlefoot has you beat," she concluded as her father made his way back onto his feet. "Unlike you, maybe even unlike his grandparents, he _listens._ When we're in the beyond, and he knows his way might not be the right way, he listens. Because sometimes a Longneck approach isn't the right way, and now I think he understands that. As much as you hate us going off on our own, if there's one thing traveling with my friends in the Mysterious Beyond has taught me, it's that everyone has something to contribute. No two problems can be dealt with in the same way."

Topps came at her again, but the shaking in his limbs was obvious. This final, desperate chance was his last gamble, a futile hope that he could bring Cera to the ground and end the fight before she could go on. He was done talking, pouring all of his energy into his attack. The horns came at her fast, and Cera crouched low in anticipation.

They collided hard, and Cera felt the base of her horns light up with a sudden, excruciating pain as Topps pushed against her, shaking his head from side to side in an attempt to throw her off balance. His erratic movements shook her at first, but she quickly brought his violent twisting under control, locking his head into place as she stared into his wild, dark eyes as another streak of skyfire lit up the mountain pass, bathing them in its intense white light.

"But I'll tell you this- not one of us ever solved a problem by turning our backs on each other. You can disagree with Littlefoot- you _should_ disagree with Littlefoot- but the moment you turn your back on him, and refuse to acknowledge him as the Speaker is the moment you divide the Valley. It is the moment the Valley dies, not because of Littlefoot, but because of you. You are the problem, Dad. Not Littlefoot."

Cera flicked her head to the side. Exhausted and unable to resist, Topps was tossed away, where he crumpled to the ground in an undignified heap, gasping for air. He lay there, motionless, staring in disbelief at the daughter who had out-dueled him, and to his surprise, her features seemed to soften. Staring down at him now, the fight seemed to flow right out of her.

"Get up, Dad," she said softly, the bitter edge gone from her voice as she made her way over to where he lay. Crouching down, she pushed at him, trying to coax him up from the ground where he remained stubbornly planted.

"You won't win if I stand, Cera. That's what you want, isn't it?"

His voice was shaky, defeated, and carried a much different tone from the one she was used to. In spite of her quickly fading anger, it hurt to see her father like this, and she wasted no time in helping him back up onto his shaky legs.

"No," she said, "I won't be the one to defeat the mighty Topps. If I'd fought the you from ten years ago, I'd have gotten my ass kicked. I just wanted you to listen."

Topps' eyes widened in surprise, but he turned his head away, almost shamefully.

"You're a good speaker, Cera, not something a lot of us Threehorns can claim to be good at, but I don't see how this changes a thing. I'm not going to change the way I think just so we can all get along and agree on everything."

Cera sighed. "That's not the point, Dad. I don't want you to change. I already know we won't agree on everything, but that's why we can't turn our backs on him. He can't see our side if we don't talk to him."

Topps grumbled something under his breath, but his brow seemed to unfurrow ever so slightly.

"And it's not just you. Littlefoot has a lot to learn, too. The Longneck way isn't always the right way, but neither is the Threehorn way, or the Swimmer way, or the Spiketail way, or the Flyer way. We have to start thinking about the Great Valley way, and I think Littlefoot has already begun doing that. But he can't really speak for the Valley if one of its voices is missing, now can he?"

The two Threehorns locked eyes, and Cera smiled at her father. At this, Topps seemed to utterly crumble.

"I- I guess I hadn't seen it that way," he confessed, shaking himself free of dust and mud as he straightened himself up. "Maybe that comes from growing up in the Mysterious Beyond. We always had to think in terms of our own kind out there, or risk the lives of our herd."

"Maybe so," Cera nodded.

"But maybe you're right," Topps continued, "maybe the Valley does require a new approach, and if that's the case…" he shut his eyes, wincing as he bit down, "I'm willing to give the Longneck a chance, as long as he listens."

It felt as if all the rage and disgust that had been building up in Cera all afternoon dissipated in that instant, washed away by the cleansing, healing skywater, and for the second time that day, she felt the warm liquid of her own tears slide down her cheeks, mercifully hidden by the skywater. Without a moment's hesitation, she lunged forward…

And buried her face into her father's frill, sniffing back the sobs as she lovingly embraced him.

"Thank you, Dad," she whispered. Topps stood at stiff attention, uncertain how to react, but after a moment, even he relented as he rubbed his own cheek against his daughter's tear-stained one.

"I'm sorry, Cera. I guess I have been a bit of an ass today. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course, Dad," Cera choked, grinning through her tears.

"And- and can you tell the Longn- can you tell Littlefoot I'm sorry?"

Cera suddenly stepped back, and for a moment, Topps wondered if he'd said something wrong. Then Cera's genuine smile curved up into a mischievous smirk.

"Nope. We're Threehorns, remember? We tackle our problems head-on."

Topps paled, but managed to swallow back his pride enough to nod solemnly.

"I suppose you're right," he admitted, starting off towards the path back to the Valley with a heavy sigh.

"Well, let's get this over with. Where is he?"

Cera laughed. It sounded as if her father was talking about cleaning a wound or doing something painful, not apologizing to one of the most forgiving dinosaurs in the Great Valley.

"Come on, Dad," she said, taking the lead, "follow me, and don't worry about it. Littlefoot doesn't bite. Besides, I think I've kept them waiting for dinner long enough as it is. Knowing them, they won't start until I'm there."

Topps smiled at the yellow Threehorn beside him. His daughter hadn't been named Speaker that day, but as the two of them walked back down the water-slicked path, he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at the mature young adult his daughter had turned out to be. Maybe, the old Threehorn admitted as he watched her confident stride, there was hope for her generation's Great Valley after all.

"Lead on, then," he said with a smile, and then playfully added, "you know I was going easy on you, right? Wouldn't want to hurt my own daughter."

"I know Dad," came the equally lighthearted reply, "I know."

And in that moment beneath the darkened skies, below the ceaselessly falling skywater, one more rift was mended.

 **Author's Note:**

 **So, here we are! I've got to be honest, when I first received Darkwolf's prompt, I thought it was going to be a cinch. "How hard could it be?" I thought.**

 **Turns out, it was pretty tough.**

 **I went through a lot of story concepts before I finally settled on the one that grew into "Strength." My initial goal was to do a story with Littlefoot as an adult, and his attempts to cope with some horrible realization about something that happened in the past between his grandparents and Bron. Basically, this was going to be my defense for the character of Bron, but I simply couldn't find a realistic way of making Littlefoot's grandparents unsympathetic, and more importantly, working such a big reveal into the Littlefoot/Bron story would make no sense if I was approaching it from an adult Littlefoot angle, so I scrapped it. I'd been toying with the possibility of going back and doing another Cera story, and it was this idea that I finally settled on, maintaining the adult gang setting, figuring that since I'd written so much about Cera this year, it'd only be appropriate for me to finish my last prompt of the season with a story revolving around her. Ultimately, I decided to try for something that taught a lesson, one that we might even consider relevant in today's turbulent political climate, so I settled on the Topps/Cera confrontation, and worked from there. The prompt is my second largest one this year, only being beat out by Guardian (though it might actually be longer. Don't quote me on that. I'm lazy and don't want to check), but I wrote it in the space of three days. Once I started on this one, it was tough to stop. The inspiration for the drought itself came from a very real issue that is affecting my state of residence at the moment, as we are experiencing a similar event.**

 **Also, brownie points if you can figure out which species of dinosaur Tors and Weru are (hint: they are NOT Triceratops and Stegosaurus) :D**

 **Anywho, I had a lot of fun this year responding to prompts, both special and standard. To Darkwolf, the issuer of this prompt, I hope this story has lived up to your expectations, and I thank you for providing the opportunity to work on a deceptively complex and challenging prompt. The challenge will be dormant until October, so until then, you can expect more "Fields" from me very soon! We have a certain orange Sailneck to get back to, after all.**

 **Until next time!**

 **-Nimbus01/Fyn16**


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